Secrets to Die For (3)

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She knew Zaydan desperately wanted to persuade her from going to the capital. She could practically see the objections on the tip of his tongue but she appreciated that he held his voice and didn't openly try and dissuade her.

It wasn't that she wanted to go, after all.

Marie-Fey didn't want to face her husband like this. She had never met him and this was not how she wanted her first meeting to be. She would rather go back to pretending she didn't know anything beyond the petty squabbles of the palace. She didn't want to put her life on the line for this venture when she could just as easily go home and never return.

But what would that mean?

Would her husband drag her back, as Zaydan predicted?

Or would he kill other women like Ubah?

Was this golden cage nothing more than an opulent hunting ground? No one would know, outsiders weren't welcome here. The women of the palace belonged to one man and no one could do anything about it.

Technically, not even she should be able to do anything about it, but that didn't mean she wouldn't try.

Because now that she knew, she would not be complicit in the deaths that could occur in the future. She had seen too much death in too short a time. She had been responsible for too many deaths. She would not be responsible for anymore.

So, it took three days, but Marie-Fey rushed the preparation along and her caravan was finally ready to depart for a second attempt to the palace. She had hand-picked her new guard and, though she was sure her assassination attempts had died with Nabeela, she had them all separated from any outside influence until it was time to depart.

It didn't change the fact that, when the day came to leave, she felt like she would be sick when she woke that morning, so early dawn was barely arriving.

"It's alright," she muttered to herself as she pulled on her silk dressing gown and stepped into her slippers. "It will be alright. Everything will be fine. Zaydan is travelling with you. You chose the men who will defend you. The soldiers come from Zaydan's unit, there is no influence from the palace. You will be fine."

As she spoke, she made her way through the empty halls of her palace, listening to the silence.

Despite waking so early for a general day, they would still leave early. Her staff would soon begin to rouse to make the final preparations.

Maanah had woken the day before and had asked to see her but she hadn't had the time. It was strange to be travelling without one of her ladies, like she was missing a shield, but she wasn't moving Maanah anywhere until she knew she was completely healed, and she didn't trust Maanah's care to anyone as attentive as Gharam. Not only that, but Azeeza wasn't awake yet and, though the child was still alive, Marie-Fey wanted someone she could trust watching over her. So, Marie-Fey would have to do this trip alone.

She hoped, as she made her way to Maanah's room, that she didn't wake her though. She would likely have to leave without saying goodbye. Gharam would see her off but she didn't want to disturb Maanah.

The folded sheet of paper she held in her hand rustled as she switched it to her other hand and reached for the door handle. She had written the letter the night before, outlining her apology for suspecting Maanah of any ill-will. She had never truly believed that Maanah would harm her, but at the same time, she had questioned it and that warranted an apology. Whatever secrets they hid from her, at the end of it all, it was Maanah and Gharam that she would always trust when all was said and done.

She silently pushed the door open, absently noting Gharam's soft voice which meant they were both awake, then looked up and froze.

Both her ladies were awake and, in the split second before they pulled apart to gape at her, she saw Maanah sat up in bed, Gharam perched lightly on her lap, her arms around Maanah's neck, Maanah's arms around Gharam's waist, with their lips gently touching in a kiss that told it was just one in a thousand. One of hello, one of reassurance, one of honesty and history.

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